


Before the Worst

by dreamsnspires



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Norsk | Norwegian, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsnspires/pseuds/dreamsnspires
Summary: Even’s twitching fingers still and he reaches for Isak, just closing the gap, staring intently as he fiddles with the seam of Isak’s worn denim jeans. “I just wanted to have you for as long as I could.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ever the fixer I am, here's a look at what might have happened if Isak had talked to Sonja before Even's manic episode. Canon compliant up to the scene in kaffebrenneriet in 8.10, with liberties taken thereafter. The texts are in Norwegian, since it's just not quite SKAM with them in English, but I think it's pretty easy to understand them in context. Also, I'm not Norwegian (but am learning!), so if any Norsk readers have tips on better phrasing to make the texts read more authentically Norwegian-teen, I'm all ears. Takk!

Isak stares at the text, starts to type.

He erases it. Deletes the message thread altogether. Silence says ‘stop texting me’ just as well.

Another notification comes through.

Of course he cares about Even. But… Isak worries his lip between his teeth. He looks up from his phone, nervously scanning the KB. No one pays him any mind.

He dials, hopes whatever Sonja needs to say is quick. He remembers the ice in Even’s voice when he’d told Sonja not to fucking call Isak. Fuck. He shouldn’t be calling her.

Sonja picks up on the first ring and suddenly she’s talking and Isak’s only half listening, still thinking of Even, the momentary flash of fear in his eyes yesterday, like a deer caught out, exposed.

“Isak. Did you hear what I said?”

“Uhh,” he coughs, covering his mouth. “Yeah, uh, can you just repeat it?”

“He’s Bipolar. Do you understand that?” What? Who is she talking about? This was supposed to be about Even. But she can’t possibly be talking about Even.

“What are you talking about?”

“Fy faen,” Sonja curses, her measured breaths whooshing down the line, creating static in Isak’s ear, his head.

“Listen. I care about him, and as much as he would disagree, I’m not trying to control him. So, if he wants to be with you—if you want to be with him—then fine. But you have to know this—Even is bipolar.

She punctuates each word. Like she’s explaining to a child. Like Isak couldn’t possibly understand. She’s not far off base. “He won’t listen to me anymore, but I can see the signs, and I’m worried he’s on the verge of a manic episode.

“A manic episode?” Isak closes his eyes, rubs his temples. Picks up his coffee cup—it’s empty. He lifts it to his lips anyway and tips it back, letting a lone tepid drop fall on his tongue. It's bitter.

“Yeah, he’s been really—” Isak’s phone trills the call waiting tone, and he’s pulls it away from his ear. Even Kosegruppa. No picture, just a greyed out silhouette of a man.

“I gotta go,” Isak blurts, punching the red icon, accidentally ending both calls.

A text pings through.

Isak can’t talk to Even right now. Doesn't understand anything right now. Doesn’t know what he’d say.

His eyes sting a bit from staring at the screen’s harsh blue light, the lie it illuminates. Isak looks up, and the sun is setting, painting the sky a dusty rose. Pools of warm light dot the pavement where the streetlights have just come on.

Ding.

Isak always wants to be with Even. He wants to go to him now, lie down, and spend all night just looking at him. He wants to forget he ever called Sonja, go back to when it seemed like everything he ever needed to or could know about Even was contained in the blue of his eyes. Maybe it is.

***

 

Isak climbs the last few steps to Even’s floor, phone in hand, quickly flicking away the one, two, three open Google search tabs.

At the door, he shoves the phone in his pocket and knocks. Slowly, lightly. 

Even opens the door, and Isak stands there. He toes off his shoes, but doesn’t move otherwise. 

“Are you coming in?” Even asks, playfully, like Isak’s reticence is just a joke. A punch line for Even to coax forth.

Isak looks at Even. Searches. Notices all the little bits about him. The tiny freckle just beneath his right eyebrow. The way his eyes look more grey than blue in the evening, like they’ve dimmed with the setting sun. How his lips are perpetually chapped and rosy, all the better for kissing.

Even leans in for a kiss, snapping Isak out of his reverie. It’s only a quick peck, and it catches Isak by surprise, but he’s chasing Even’s lips all the same, instinctually. Leaning into his touch as Even smooths back the hair that’s flopped over Isak’s ear. It’s getting a bit long, but he likes Even running his fingers through it.

“Hello, earth to Isak,” he says it in English. It makes Isak smile, his cheek dimpling into Even's thumb gently rubbing, barely there. “What universe did you just go to? What are the other Isaks and Evens doing right now?”

Isak finally steps over the threshold, nudges past Even, past the hallway full of coats and scarves and hats and shoes. How much outerwear does one family need, seriously? “We can’t be happy in all the universes, you know.”

Even grabs Isak’s hand, pulls him back and turns him around. “Hey. Course we can. Are you okay? 

Isak gently pulls his hand free and takes a step back. “Are _you_ okay?”

Even’s eyes crinkle, but in confusion. Their usual brightness dimmed. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. You’re the one that came in talking about unhappy universes.”

“I don’t mean now. I mean, like, are you _okay_?” He emphasizes the ‘okay,’ but fuck this isn't coming out right. He shouldn’t have brought it up, he shouldn’t have come here so soon, and he definitely should not ever have called fucking Sonja.

“Sonja?” Even asks. “What about Sonja?”

Fuck, had Isak said that last bit out loud? Fuckfuckfuck. “Nothing, she uh,” Isak coughs, stutters again. Only Even’s not chiming in with just the right word at just the right time. 

“Did you talk to Sonja?”

Isak’s good, but not this good. Doesn’t see a lie that’ll reliably get him out of this. And there’s a part of him deep down that doesn’t want to. He wants to yell about this. Wants to hear it from Even. “Yeah,” he finally says.

“Did you talk to her about me?”

He rolls his eyes, tosses his head to the side. “Well we weren’t going to talk about the weather.”

And shit, that was the wrong thing to say.

Even shoves past Isak. "I told you not to talk to her!" he shouts, not looking back, before going into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“How could you not tell me?” Isak shouts after him, following. The door to Even’s room isn’t locked, so he gives a perfunctory taptaptap and then enters without waiting for an answer.

Even’s sitting in the window nook, just-lit joint dangling from his perpetually chapped, rosy lips, the window cracked.

Isak approaches Even slowly, keeps his distance, as though he’s a baby animal, likely to spook at any moment. “Were you just going to lie forever?"

Even sucks on the joint, its embers glowing bright orange in the dim evening light. “I wasn't lying.” The words leave his mouth in a cloud of smoke. “It’s none of your business.”

Isak scoffs. “Oh, yeah, it doesn't concern me at all to know about my boyfriend's mental health!”

Even turns then, looks at Isak. “Why? So you could break up with me?” 

“What?” Isak crosses the room, coming to stand in front of Even. “Why would you think that? 

Even chuckles, mirthlessly. Takes another drag from the joint. “How long's it been since you talked to your mom again? Two? Three months?

Isak turns away, fiddles with his jacket, suddenly enraptured by the way the black threads have begun to unravel at his wrist. Fuck. Why does he never think before he opens his mouth? “That's not what I meant...When I said...I just didn't...”

“You seemed pretty clear to me,” Even says. Takes another drag.

Isak turns back toward Even. “You don't know my mom.”

“And you don't know me.” Even says, as he tosses the butt into the night and gets down from the window. He sits on the little sofa under his bed, off to the side, like Isak could sit down next to him if he wanted.

“I do know you.” Isak sits in the middle. Close enough to touch, but not.

Even stares across the room. “A man’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.”

Isak’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Seriously? You don’t know it? Even smiles, but his eyes don’t crinkle. “Titanic! Second, no, third, best love story ever.” He trails off. “The point is, you don’t know all of me.” 

“Whose fault is that?” Isak says quietly.

“You said your life was better off without mentally ill people around you!” Even snaps out of his dreamy reverie, shoves his hands through his hair, then forces them back to his lap. His fingers twitch.

“But you're in my life anyway! So, what? You were just going to hope you never had an episode around me? Make me think you loved me and wanted to be with my forever. Slink off and disappear for weeks while you struggle to get out of bed? Do something dangerous and leave me terrified and confused and alone?” 

Even’s twitching fingers still and he reaches for Isak, just closing the gap, staring intently as he fiddles with the seam of Isak’s worn denim jeans. “I just wanted to have you for as long as I could.”

Isak stills Even’s restless hand with his own, inhales deep. “I'm sorry I said my life was better off without mentally ill people in it. It was stupid. And not true. But you didn't even give me the chance—” 

“Sonja said—”

“Fuck Sonja!” Isak says, and Even’s head snaps up. 

Isak nudges closer to Even, turns his body so they’re facing each other. “You said so yourself; she can't feel what you feel. What we feel.”

“How will you feel if I have an episode?”

Isak looks down, takes his turn playing with the seam on his pant leg. “I don't know.” He looks up, into Even’s eyes, the day too far gone for Isak to make out their blue any longer. Somehow they still shine. “But I want to find out.”

Even raises his eyebrows.

“I mean, I don't _want_  you to have an episode,” Isak shakes his head. “But I do want to be with you. So, if that means seeing you at your worst—”

Even throws his hands up. “But I don't want you to see me at my worst!”

Isak takes Even’s hands, gentles them down, covering them with his own as he moves closer. 

“But that’s life.” Isak says. “You’ll have bad days. You can’t control it.”

“You can’t control me either.” Even’s eyes are steely.

Isak closes his eyes, nuzzles in close, rubbing the tip of his nose against Even's, gently. “I know, baby.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Only the faint tones from the street below filter in through the open window. Even says, “I would have told you, you know. Eventually. When I was ready."

Isak hums and then Even whispers, barely a sound at all. Like this is the scariest part to admit. "I don’t want to be alone.” 

Isak’s heart breaks a little at that. He takes Even’s chin, nudges it back, so they’re looking at each other. Isak asks, “Do you want to be with me?” 

Even blinks slowly. “Yeah.” 

“Er du glad i meg?” Isak asks.

Even sighs. “What if that's not enough?”

Isak hesitates, thinks. What if Even’s right? What if it’s not?

“Elsker du meg? Isak asks.

Even’s closes his eyes, looks away again.

Isak moves into his space. “Hey.”

Even looks at him. “It’s not fair you know everything about me.” 

Isak smiles. “Fine, you wanna know something about me?”

Even nods. Isak kisses him then, their lips just barely brushing, then whispers in his ear. “Elsker deg.” 

Even pulls back, looks Isak in the eye, considering. “Even if I'm manic?”

Isak kisses him again. “Yep.”

“Even if I'm depressed” 

Isak nuzzles Even’s nose, then his neck, peppering it with open-mouthed kisses, before breathing, “Always.” 

“Even if I sing Gabrielle?”

Isak pulls back, rolling his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. “Don't push it.”

Even smiles, squinty eyes, creases and all. “You said always.”

Isak considers him: his freckles and his eye creases and his fluffy curls and his chapped lips. And his bipolar disorder. “Yeah, I did.”

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> "Er du glad i meg?" and "elsker du meg?" both mean "Do you love me?" but the former implies a less serious, friendly love, while the latter conveys romantic or close familial love.


End file.
